NOVEL WEB Chapter 24: The Bait Was Taken
Tver scrutinized the bartender with interest.
Tall and thin, his long hair and beard were both gray, and his deep blue eyes held a hint of indifference.
If Tver didn't know the plot, he would never have associated him with Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster.
Yes, this was Albus Dumbledore's younger brother, Aberforth Dumbledore.
While his brother was the revered first white wizard and the famous headmaster of Hogwarts, Aberforth ran a run-down pub in a small village.
Seemingly annoyed by Tver's prolonged scrutiny, Aberforth repeated himself impatiently.
"Customer, what'll it be? Butterbeer or Firewhisky? Or are you planning to stay the night?"
"Just a bottle of butterbeer."
Tver quickly found an empty table, conveniently located not too far from Quirrell.
Quirrell also ordered a bottle of butterbeer and was drinking it quietly.
Compared to other pubs, this one was relatively quiet, with Hagrid playing cards on one side and chatting animatedly about magical creatures, creating quite a bit of noise.
However, when Tver saw the bottle of butterbeer placed in front of him, he lost all desire to take a sip.
The grime on it was greasier than Professor Snape's hair and more nauseating than the garlic smell on Quirrell.
It must have been deliberate on Aberforth's part, just to retaliate for Tver's earlier rudeness.
Both brothers seemed to be growing more childish as they aged!
Tver shook his head slightly. As for the bottle of butterbeer, he decided to pass.
Sitting in the pub, Tver didn't deliberately observe Quirrell's actions but instead listened to the conversations around him, just like Quirrell.
"The rumor has it that Gringotts was breached by a mysterious figure, and he managed to escape."
"You're behind the times. That mysterious figure emptied Gringotts completely. The goblins are now scratching their heads trying to recover the losses."
"In my opinion, Gringotts orchestrated the whole thing, embezzling the deposits of their clients and blaming it on theft!"
Tver's face, hidden under his hood, twitched slightly.
What was I expecting?
Quirrell seemed to share the sentiment; his shoulders drooped, and he appeared impatient, even resting his hand on the table as if about to leave.
Then suddenly, Hagrid said something that made Quirrell settle back down quickly.
"You haven't seen a three-headed dog. I've had one for a year, started out this small," he gestured with his hand, "and now it's as tall as the ceiling. The only trouble is that its three heads tend to fight each other."
Just that one sentence from Hagrid was enough to calm Quirrell down, who sat quietly listening to Hagrid's conversation.
However, Hagrid only mentioned the three-headed dog in passing; the rest of the conversation centered on his love for dragons, leaving Quirrell somewhat disappointed.
But this also revealed to Tver Quirrell's purpose tonight.
So, he's still troubled by the three-headed dog.
A small smile played at the corner of Tver's lips as he picked up his untouched bottle of beer and sat down next to Hagrid.
The move wasn't conspicuous; there had always been people coming and going around Hagrid while he played cards.
After settling down, Tver sat quietly for a while before unexpectedly speaking up.
"I have a three-headed dog too, a big one. They're wild and hard to tame. I wonder how you managed. If I didn't know their weaknesses, they would've bitten me to death sooner or later."
With a conversation starter in place, Hagrid's interest was piqued. Few were willing to chat with him about magical creatures, given his different perspective on these creatures.
"Well, it's quite simple. Three-headed dogs love to eat cooked meat, but they don't mind raw meat either. If you feed them raw meat regularly and then cooked meat during training, they'll obediently follow your commands during training."
Hagrid enthusiastically shared a bunch of tips, but Tver only needed to know one thing—
The bait was taken.
Ever since he brought up the topic of the three-headed dog, Tver had sensed a discreet gaze watching him the whole time.
No need to guess; the only one who would be observing him for this long was Quirrell.
After expressing gratitude to Hagrid, Tver hurriedly left the pub, pretending to be a wizard who had learned a trick and was eager to return home to train his three-headed dog.
However, after leaving the pub, his pace slowed slightly, and he walked slowly towards the direction of the village entrance, strolling along the deserted street.
Quirrell was patient as well, clearly following him from behind but never catching up, seemingly unafraid of his Disapparition.
Standing at the village entrance, Tver became impatient, striking a clumsy Disapparition pose.
Sure enough, Quirrell quickly emerged from the shadows.
"Friend, don't leave just yet," his voice carried a hint of warmth, attempting to ease Tver's guard. "Can we have a chat?"
"Who are you?" Tver feigned surprise, taking two steps back. "I need to get home quickly, so I won't chat with you for long."
"Don't rush, my friend," Quirrell pulled out a small bag, which emitted a crisp sound. "Just answer me a simple question, and you'll receive twenty Galleons, it's that easy."
Tver chuckled wryly.
Quirrell bribed Hagrid with a dragon egg. When it came to him, it was only worth 20 Galleons. Moreover, he had no intention of revealing it directly.
Tver pretended to be drawn by the Galleons, pausing before saying, "What do you want to know? I can't guarantee I know the answer if it's too difficult."
"It's simple, just tell me what the weak point of the three-headed dog is."
Quirrell shook the money bag alluringly.
Tver crossed his arms, teasingly saying, "That's not a simple question. I doubt you've been sitting in the pub for so long without knowing the answer."
Quirrell was instantly enraged; Tver's attitude was clearly toying with him.
"Don't get too cocky, I can always ask the big guy!"
"Well, go ahead and ask," Tver waved at Quirrell. "I'll come back next week. You can come find me if you still haven't found the answer by then."
Before Quirrell could respond, Tver's figure flashed, instantly disappearing without a trace of his previous clumsiness.
Quirrell suddenly realized he had been played!
That fearful posture just now was intentional, to deceive him into letting his guard down!
"You were careless," a soft voice emanated from Quirrell's hood.
Quirrell immediately clasped his hands in front of him, respectfully saying, "Master, it's my fault. That person is not as simple as he appears."
"I mean, from the moment you entered the pub, you were being watched!"
Voldemort's voice became menacing, causing Quirrell to shudder.
"I... I don't understand what you mean, my master."
"That man has been observing you since he came into the pub, aware of your every move, you fool!"
Voldemort also felt immense anger because he had just realized it himself. He, the great Dark Lord, had been outwitted by a sly and elusive individual!
"Make sure to come back next week, strip this man's soul bare, and let me see what lies inside!"